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The story of the suffering
Hi. My name is Popstar792. I know this may not be a creepypasta, but this pasta isn't related to Minecraft in any way, it's a true story of something that happened in my life last year. (Yes, I'm writing this story in the October of 2018). I've been meaning to share this with quite a few people, and I've finally had the courage to start doing it. This story may be a bit personal, but I think if I share my experiences, I can help make a change in the world, and maybe my story can help inspire you to share this story with many others, and people will see the true meaning of family, faith, and hope, and what it's like to be homeless. Before I go into this, please note that the time I had become homeless was in the early summer of 2017. I was going on 13 at the time. My homelessness had lasted until mid fall, when we finally made a new start, and got things together. I was born in NYC. But due to my dad's job, we moved to NJ so it would be less of a hassle for him to travel to and from work. I always knew I hated New Jersey. It wasn't a state I loved. I felt like I had been taken away from my own blood, and what I was familiar with. And maybe I don't blame myself for the way I felt. Maybe, just maybe I was right all along about NJ being a place where I felt I didn't want to be. Who knows? Let's dive deeper into the story, shall we? Before I was homeless, I was living peacefully, until one day, a fire started at my house. It was set on fire by a group of other people who had been firing gunshots, and setting houses on fire. I lived in NJ at the time. The police and firefighters had showed up, and we had to report what happened. After that, we had to go to the Town Square to let them know that our house had burned down, and that we needed help finding shelters in our area. New Jersey told us they could not help us, and that they only had overnight shelters instead of shelters that families can stay in until they found a new place to live. Unfortunately, we had no luck, and we had to go to the homeless shelter services in NYC where all of the homeless families were applying for help. They had to fill out paperwork, and the process took a whole day. After we filled out paper on our past residence and what happened and the police report we filed, we had to go upstairs where we had to wait a few hours to meet with our caseworker. While we were waiting, around lunchtime, we had to go to the cafeteria where they had sandwiches that had been defrosted from the freezer, a fruit, and possibly a yogurt. Then a few hours later, we finally got to speak with our caseworker, and talk to them about what happened. After that, we had to go up another flight to wait for our placement. After we got placed, we were in a shelter apartment north of where the homeless shelter services was located. In the apartment, there was only one room with bunk beds, and a bathroom, and a kitchen. After two weeks, we had to wait to see if the shelter approved us to see if we were eligeable for that assistance. It took a few times before we had to be approved. We were missing some details and things to use to prove that we were homeless. Usually the shelter process is very strict because a lot of people have scammed the NY state government to get free homeless shelter housing to avoid paying any rent. It took us about 4 or 5 times until we got approved. The building we went to was big, and busy, and full of families. Some families were crying, and a lot of the kids were misbehaving. Yep, you bet; a lot of kids throwing food, playing in the garbage, sitting in crumbs left on the floor, throwing shoes, jumping on the chairs, screaming, play fighting, running into the elevators, throwing tantrums, babies taking off their clothes, etc. So when we finally got approved, we stayed in an apartment on a very bad part and the opposite part of the borough I was born in. The conditions in that shelter apartment was nasty. There were rats, roaches, mice, spiders, unuseable appliances, and people throwing garbage out of the windows, and everything. I was often depressed. Being in the shelter made me feel like my family would never ever be able to get out of it. While I was still thankful that we had a place to live instead of sleeping in the train station or on the streets, some nights I cried, and prayed that we would get away from living in the shelter. We didn't have much items since most of it had been burned in the fire. Most of our money had been eaten up buying food and paying parking violation tickets. We eventually requested to be transfered to another location. It took us about 3 times until they relocated us because a lot of the shelters were full. Then after we got relocated, the apartment was much more functional. However, it was the most dangerous part of another borough in which I had grew up in, or at least, spent part of my childhood in. We often had to be very careful in the evenings when we had to return. My family was poor, and there would be times we had to illegaly jump the trains to get to food pantries to stock up on food. If not, I had to steal from corner stores to get snacks for us to eat. Sometimes we used to live off of chips or banana bread for dinner, sometimes even bread and cheese every morning for breakfast. We couldn't afford any more meals from the restaurants, and we were trying to save money. Because the shelter complex I was in was in the city, we couldn't drive and our car often got a lot of parking tickets and was even towed once for violation of the city overnight sanitation crew schedule. Then, we had a housing specialist. The specialist had to help my family find a new house. The rules with the shelter is that you are not allowed to hang out or leave at night (the deadline to be back in the complex was at 10 pm), and if you were caught, the administration for that complex will report your family to the homeless services as proof that you have another place to stay. Everyone in the complex was to log their names in at the desk at exactly 9:30 pm sharp. Because of this rule, and because of the hours my dad had worked, he eventually quit his job because he couldn't make it to work anymore. Mom didn't have a job, so both of my parents were. unemployed. The government had to pay a lot of money to house each family in each shelter apartment, so that's why they try to get every family out as soon as possible. Eventually, my parents were able to send us to family for the day, and got a job during the day, and got help from a program where we got cash assistance. After that, we found a house, and moved in. Everything was alright after that. Category:Moderate to Long MC Creepypastas Category:Creepypasta Category:Popstar792